


One letter, one ocean, two souls

by mimi_rosenbaum



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Bisexual Jimmy, Bisexuality, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Internalized Homophobia, Love Confessions, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 22:30:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8031463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mimi_rosenbaum/pseuds/mimi_rosenbaum
Summary: One letter, one ocean, two souls. The letter which Jimmy Kent writes on the New Year's eve 1925 will completely change his life, if only his life. Can the pieces of paper sailing across the Ocean revive the disguised love? And if a new place brings a new beginning, can it heal the wounds once left unsaid? (set after season 6)





	One letter, one ocean, two souls

**Author's Note:**

> I've only recently watched all of the Downton Abbey seasons and I cannot get rid of some images in my head so I've decided to write this fanfiction. Please feel free to correct any of my mistakes since English isn't my first language but I will try my best :)
> 
> Imagine this: the Finale, the very last scenes with the main characters kissing and singing etc, a shot with a person sitting at a desk, seen from behind. He (guys!!!, you know him, it's Jimmy Kent) is writing a letter, we can see the beginning "Dear Thomas" and the date - New York, 31st December 1925. Then some other happy shots with the Downton people. And again the letter with the last words of hidden love confession and an invitation to New York. And then shot of Thomas, the new and fabulous butler, standing outside, snowflakes on his shoulders, smoking with a smile on his pretty face because somehow he can feel a certain warmth filling his heart.
> 
> Now, ladies and gentlemen, you can bring out your handkerchiefs. 
> 
> So I will write about this and some other pretty nice things. Rated M for future chapters.

31st December 1925

The night has already fallen swathing the city with its dark clouds and delicate snowflakes dancing in the air. Behind the window he saw rooftops and fire escapes slowly being covered with some white subtle icing, he sighed as the cigarette's smoke left his, now both tight and agitated, ribcage. Then with another sigh he twiddled a pen between nimble fingers and glanced at a piece of paper half covered with words, “my words to him”. "Oh God, this's so stupid, so stupid and ..." he murmured, as he exanimated the content. "Dearest Thomas" said the very first trembling letters, or maybe he should have written "Dear Mr Barrow" but it sounded so distant, cold and ...uncaring, nevermind the silly Dear at the beginning. He couldn't have treated him with a Mr Barrow tone of speaking, even if he had have to address him like that in Downton and it probably seemed more polite in the society's standards of writing a letter after more than a year and a half of a void and unbearable silence. Well, it is not just the way one expresses love and hopes for forgiveness. 

As the words followed revealing his shame, remorse, care and affection all stirred together, suddenly he felt so vulnerable and small, just the way he felt one autumn evening lying his head on Miriam's warm laps and spur-of-the moment giving her pieces of his true self, step by step. And she has taught him to embrace this peculiar vulnerability, step by step... Now, reading this letter, of course he had mixed feelings and could hear in his mind "Yer a ninny, silly and sissy, find yourself a hooker and ya'll forget bout this bloody Thomas". Although now, after his time spent in London and these few months here, in New York, he was certain, he knew that any chippie, any bottle of fine whiskey, any handsome dark haired lad couldn't make it vanish. He also knew now that any other man or woman, no matter how astonishingly good looking or how charming or intelligent she would be, couldn't appease his troubled body and mind. Not even Miriam, as he thought at some point.

As he was scanning the last paragraph he could hear himself murmuring the words.  
“I bet you would love living in the New York city, you have been here once, but trust me, Thomas, a life here is completely different, and just ah! so youthfully free. I will understand if you refuse silently or not, I understand that this thing between us is not simple neither for you, nor for me. But here, we could try again and do better - way better. And if a new place brings a new beginning - then I need you for my new beginning... Our new beginning.” He sighed and signed the letter, bemused how affectionate he happened to be these days. 

“That was a touching one, James” he heard from behind and quickly turned around on the swivel chair, ready to scream.

“Who the hell..” he stopped half sentence when he saw her leaning against the door frame, her arms crossed, smiling seductively as always. “Mimi, yer a little…, lord, ya frightened me ya know!” he yelled at her furiously. Panting, he moved back to the desk, crossed his legs and rested his chin on the back of the hand. “Damn it, Miriam. How about knocking or saying “hello”, that’s how we used to do it in the old world”, he thought.

“Calm down, sweetheart,” she replied with her tender and sweet voice.  
“The door was opened so I came in. Unless you want to get robbed, an open door stands for an invitation. I guess so at least...” she said as she approached him from behind to firmly plant a noisy kiss on his freckle peppered cheek. Then she slightly pinched his ear and drawled mocking her bad temper “And I’ve told you a hundred times not to call me Mimi. We’re not on a damn stage, James.”

“So I’ve told you not to call me James!” he shouted “We’re not in some great mansion and I’m not a servant anymore and…” Miriam laughed and her laugh was bright and serene. 

“D’accord, d’accord what a funny old bird you are sometimes “ she shushed him standing behind and caressing his back. “Well, we’ve got more important task to finish and do this night my blonde ange,” she said and patted him on the arm. “Lemme read it since you’ve finally written this letter”

“Ya’ve heard the essential part, haven’t ya?” he asked with a cheeky grin.  
“I can’t say what’s essential when I don’t know the rest.” 

“Miriam, please, no.” Jimmy said with a resigned expression on his face. Mimi was a miracle of life, certainly. She forced him not to give up on Thomas, not to give up on life in general back in London. But sometimes she was so absorbing and she loved playing these small games throughout the day. He raised his eyes slowly and saw her slender pale body wrapped in the most golden glittery dress he has ever seen. Her short ebony hair smoothly tucked behind the ears and an “it” tiara on the forehand made her look even more glamoursly than on a daily basis. Miriam was blooming youth and beauty. She noticed him staring so she turned around and said “And what ya thing?”. She made another spin and began dancing waltz on her own. ”I’m sparkly ready for tonight. I can’t tell the same about you.. “ She pointed her nimble finger at him and continued speaking and twirling “but maybe the undone bow-tie and ruffled hair are the part of your intriguing look for this night. All moves allowed at the Webster Hall’s masquerade ball, especially on the New Year’s Eve. Oh Jimmy, the boys will love it!” she exclaimed thrilled. 

Jimmy grinned at this little performance. “Oh lord, thank you for bringing Miriam to life 24 years ago” he heard himself in his mind . “Well, Mi, my darling, I must disappoint ya. I’m going to be spruce as always so no undone bow-ties for the boys.” He said reaching for his comb and got up heading to the mirror. 

“Certainement Monsieur Toujours Bel. You get ready and I’ll read your love confession. Even the best writers demand some editing issues, huh?” He fixed her with an irritated glare but didn’t say anything. “A yes then, cheers, Jimmy. After that we’ re off for our petting-party and some decent whoopee, the midnight won’t wait for you, Cinderella.” Miriam piped cheerfully and took the letter in her hands.

She started reading out loud at the same time peeking at Jimmy who was pomading his hair, checking his reaction.

“Dearest Thomas,

You may think, and probably you think this right now, that I am an impudent and self-absorbed creature who dares to ruin a peaceful farewell once made. You are absolutely right, my dearest fellow! There I am, and I dare to ask you if peace is still a peace when one finds unsaid words behind it?” 

No trace of anger or anxiety appeared in Jimmy’s smooth and unruffled face as he was rubbing some more cologne onto his sun-kissed neck. 

“I like it, Jimmy. Never experienced your, lemme name it, emotional letter self” Miriam commented briefly.

“Neither have I till today” he mumbled to himself and checked the shirt in search of any unwelcomed creasing. 

“Now, I imagine, you smirk or even laugh because I am trying to sound like a grown up man and I am pretending that I know anything about life. Well, I will surprise you, recently I have become so delusively adultlike and maturely poetic that I am surprised as well.”

“I reckon we should after all reconsider calling you James” Miriam whispered and Jimmy smirked. She tried to be cheerful and quick witted although she was already moved by Jimmy’s rough but at the same time tenderhearted way of expressing his thoughts on paper. 

“The truth is, Thomas, it is so hard for me to write anything understandable, I see how bloviatingly incoherent my words are and I am ashamed. Indeed, I know nothing but my shame.” She stopped short with wetted eyes when she heard Jimmy’s firm voice slowly repeating the words.

“I know nothing but my shame” he said looking straight in the mirror.

 

 

“The night is cold but beautifully warmed by this frenetic spell of love and care.” He thought as the Lady Edith’s and her fresh new husband’s car vanished in fog. “Well, the fog hasn’t changed since 1925, still sticky and too humid.” He came back inside passing the vast hall, now emptying with the guests heading to their bedrooms, after the whole night of dancing, drinking, kissing and holding hands with their love ones. 

“Everything is cleaned out, Mr. Barrow” Mrs. Hughes said “We will remove the garlands in the morning, the young maids are exhausted with the sensations of the night. I hope you’ll understand under these circumstances..”

“Alright, Mrs Hughes, no rush needed in the morning, a late brunch is expected. “ She seemed relieved. “And, Mrs Hughes. Thank you for your guard tonight and taking charge of Anna’s responsibilities. So. I wish you goodnight then, rest well, we all need it” He said, sounding a little bit uncertain in his new role which surprised him but he blamed the inappropriate hour. 

“Goodnight Mr Barrow, although I must tell the fine part of this night is behind us in last year” She said it with her sweet granny voice and started hushing the giggling maids.

Thomas closed the front door, switched off the rest of the lights and blew out the candles. With a bunch of keys in his inside pocket he came downstairs to check out if anybody left there and then he stepped outside into the snowy night. No blizzard or wind, just lazily falling snowflakes finding home on his arms and uncovered hair. He pulled out his cigarette case and finally found a calming feeling of release in the smoke inhabiting his lungs. He coughed as a certain warmth filled his chest, he felt odd. Lord Grantham changed his life in many ways but today he gave him another opportunity to prove his loyalty. “And Mr Carson? This old rotten potato smashed me so many times and now without him, his illness, I’d be stuck with another old freak. Shall I be grateful for his existence or for his health condition?” He smirked and looked at the ash on the snow covered ground. “Maybe it’s a new beginning, a kind and generous one? He stopped himself from laughing out loud. Don’t except anything, last time you did, it ended with the bathroom drama and making a goat of yourself” He swallowed as the voice in his head spoke. His heart was pounding and he felt his nails scratching the palm.

 

 

“Are you sure that’s the right address?” Miriam asked wrapping herself up with her mink collar. 

“Yes, I am absolutely sure. Could ya please put this bloody letter to the pillar box?” he asked “I am freezing, Mi.”

“I could and I will, but I have to be certain. All the pages are in the envelope? Nothing left on your desk?”

“Yes, bloody, yes. I thought ya wanted to go to the party so badly…” he grinded out and exhaled loudly when Miriam finally slided the letter into the post box.

When they arrived at the Webster Hall, all sparkling with different textures, colours and rosy smiles, the party was in the prime. People dancing foxtrot, drinking champagne and whisky, smoking cigars and cigarettes, kissing, necking, holding hands with their love ones no matter their sex. That was the Webster Hall, the new world that Miriam revealed to him in New York city. Now, after few months, it felt like home. Bartenders, dancers, singers, jazzmen and guests. A cheek kiss here, a handshake there, some laughs and sweet words, best wishes. 

He loved that and people loved him there. But today he felt disconnected imagining Thomas entering the room, Thomas hidden behind a masquerade mask, Thomas holding his waist and Thomas guiding him to the dark corner for some bits of privacy so he could cherish Jimmy with his soft lips and sweet arousing his lust whispers. All he could do now was to lean at the wall and he found himself replaying the letter with Miriam’s mellifluent honey like voice.

New York, 31st December 1925

Dearest Thomas,

You may think, and probably you think this right now, that I am an impudent and self-absorbed creature who dares to ruin a peaceful farewell once made. You are absolutely right, my dearest fellow! There I am, and I dare to ask you if peace is still a peace when one finds unsaid words behind it? Now, I imagine, you smirk or even laugh because I am trying to sound like a grown up man and I am pretending that I know anything about life. Well, I will surprise you, recently I have become so delusively adultlike and maturely poetic that I am surprised as well. The truth is, Thomas, it is so hard for me to write anything understandable, I see how bloviatingly incoherent my words are and I am ashamed. Indeed, I know nothing but my shame.

Clearly, I feel ashamed, I have felt ashamed ever since I repulsed your tender heart. Although I feel more remorseful about the time when our friendship flourished, simply because I saw your helpless hope knocking you around during the day, and by the end of each bloody day I was always consciously leaving you wrecked and perplexed. I didn't do anything to make you feel better, I was consciously misleading you and yet yearning for your constant interest and affection. Shall I even dream of calling you my friend again? 

When I left Downton, I felt lost and unworthy anybody's attention. I wished I could have said different words or have done different things. I should have told you the truth but I was then drowning in lies that I couldn't escape. Perhaps, no, for sure, I was manipulated by my self-imposed thoughts... There was a time, when I thought that I've figured it out, but then this bloody Lady Anstruther came and ruined everything, in fact she has ruined me long time ago... After that, in London I've told myself that I didn't care, but Thomas, believe me, I was so desperate to forget. Sometimes, in a rare moment of aplomb or moral consciousness, I was recalling all the types of your smiles, and once I recalled the handshake, your cold and soft hand and I was full of regrets and self-disgust. Now, I am saved from this London torment, yet I still feel miserable. Yes, I am a misery without you. So don't, I beg, leave me aside as I left you way too many times. 

I can't ask or beg for your forgiveness, even if my dreams tell me otherwise. Truly, I have always wanted the best for you, I didn't show it but I really did. And sincerely I hope -that somehow after all this pain - you have found happiness and fulfilment. Ahh, but you know me, don't you? When I want something I just bloody get it and I've wanted you for so long that I couldn't care less what you think about my stubbornness and zeal. Write me back even if the answer is to stay away. Please, please, write me a yes and come to New York. Come so I could hold you for so long that we will never be able to breath separately. Come so I could really see you, feel you, taste you, speak gently to you - but not so always gently, and so I could tell you at dawn about the last record I've heard. Come so I could show you the city the way you cannot imagine. Just come, Thomas.

I bet you would love living in the New York city, you have been here once, but trust me, Thomas, a life here is completely different, and just ah! so youthfully free. I will understand if you refuse silently or not, I understand that this thing between us is not simple neither for you, nor for me. But here, we could try again and do better - way better. And if a new place brings a new beginning - then I need you for my new beginning... Our new beginning.

With love, your Jimmy  
Suddenly the witching hour came and he felt all the women’s and men’s arms around him. Peter the bartender wishing luck, Lucy inviting for her new play, Johnson mentioning some fun together one day, Billy and Jacob complimenting his cologne, and more and more and more. With the shouts and toasts of a Happy New Year Miriam snuggled tightly into his arms, like she used to on their nights together back in autumn, and he felt her delicate lips on his, before she kissed him with an open mouth smiled, she had mumbled into his teeth “I wish you two a new beginning”.

**Author's Note:**

> The Webster Hall is and was a real queer place in NY. I read about this here: http://www.nyc.gov/html/lpc/downloads/pdf/LGBT-PRIDE_2014.pdf


End file.
